“Oh.” I wait patiently.
Once he is gloriously naked, he strips me bare.
We step into the shower together, and I am fully prepared to get bent over and fucked. I wait for it. I wait while he adjusts the water temperature to my liking. I wait while he wets my body and runs his fingers through my hair. I wait while he uses my face soap to wash away the dark rings of makeup around my eyes. And wait as he washes my hair, and then his own. I wait for him to kiss me, or touch me in a way that opens a door to an onslaught of sex. But he doesn’t. He’s a perfect gentleman, even though we are naked, and needy, and his erection is standing loud and proud.
“I am sorry about your friend.” Tate tucks my wet hair behind my ears. We are standing close together under the spray of water, keeping each other warm.
“Thank you. He’ll be missed. He saved my life. A piece of my heart will always be broken.”
“He sounds like a very special person.”
If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he was jealous.
“He was. He always will be.”
“How special are we talking here?”
“Not as special as you and Stefania.”
“I’m not thinking about Stefania. You shouldn’t be either.” Tate flicks off the water. Our shower is apparently done. Not that I didn’t enjoy a little pampering. It was a refreshing change to the ramrod guys I’m used to.
Tate grabs two towels from the linen closet. Wrapping one around his waist, he uses the other to attend to me. He dries my entire body, not shy about rubbing all the most sensitive parts. I think the Gentleman Jack portion of our show is coming to an end by the ravenous look in his dark brown eyes.
When he leans in close, I prepare to be kissed. I prepare to be ravished and ravaged. I look forward to it, but it doesn’t come. He just inhales me, appreciating my clean scent like an early morning rose. No one has ever savored me like this before. It’s foreign and unidentifiable. It makes me question everything. Especially him. His intentions, his thoughts. The uncertainty makes me want to push him away, but my curiosity wants to see where this will lead. To find out who Tate really is, and what he really wants with me.
From the moment I met him, he almost seemed too good to be true. There was something different about him. Something intriguing, and that curiosity has led us right here. To this unexpected interaction that I’m apprehensive about, but also so completely captivated by.
Tate takes my hand and leads me out of the bathroom. I follow him so willingly. So unnaturally for my predisposition.
He drops his towel onto the floor once we’re in my bedroom. Mine goes as well. My skin prickles from the rush of cool air. Tate kisses a sweet trail over my bare shoulder, then urges me to lie down. Every inch of my body is tingling from his barely there touch. He has a strange power over me. One I should be apprehensive of, but I’m not. He’s easy to trust, even if I spent months denying it. I’m not denying it anymore, though.
I willingly crawl onto the bed and stretch out, tempting and teasing him with my nakedness. I hear a pleasing rumble in his throat, and I smile.
I want to please him as much as I want him to please me.
He runs his fingertips over my curves, taking his leisurely time as they travel over my thighs and hips. There is that appreciation again, like he’s never touched a naked woman before. I want to ask him what he’s thinking. Why he’s so relaxed and unhurried. But I don’t. I just ride this train, anticipating where it will take me.
Our eyes meet when his fingers skate down the center of my torso and over my navel. He doesn’t stop his southward descent as he crosses a forbidden line we are both eager to break. He bites his luscious lower lip as he traces the soft flesh of my folds, teasing them gently. I part my thighs willingly, inviting him to have more.
When the pad of his thumb grazes my clit, my insides electrify. They mirror the intense look in his eyes.
I let out a little sigh as he begins to massage me, circling his thumb in the lightest, gentlest motion. I melt into the mattress, letting the sensations have me. My pussy burning with the sweetest agony. I open my legs wider and moan, craving more. But Tate just does Tate, and concentrates on my swelling bud as it becomes more sensitive by the second.
I breathe heavier as his thumb slides easily over my clit, using my arousal to wet the folds of my pussy. I pant from pleasure, and pain and predetermination. He has taken over me. With just a simple touch. I clutch the comforter as my muscles tighten, an orgasm lingering, but nowhere in reach.
He knows he owns me — it’s clear by the dominant look in his dark, stormy eyes. If it were anyone else, I would recoil from that look, but not with Tate. With Tate, that look comes with possibilities. With trust. With a willingness to open up.
I spread my legs wider, wanting so much more. Asking, begging for it all.
His groan is so sexy as he licks his lips and takes me all in. His eyes sweeping over my naked, open body with a predatory delight.
He sinks his finger inside me, and I shudder. The extra pressure feeds the need clawing to come out.
I bow my back and moan, wanting him to know how much I love his touch. How much I need his touch.
He fingers me with the same, slow steadiness, keeping his thumb securely pressed to my clit.
It’s driving me mad. My need to come is ravenous.
